


Context is for Everyone

by dabs_into_oblivion



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Not Canon Compliant, Rating May Change, if you're here looking for smut i'm sorry to disappoint and i may write that in the future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2019-11-26 17:25:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18183560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dabs_into_oblivion/pseuds/dabs_into_oblivion
Summary: The crew of Discovery is still reeling from the mirror universe, and while their new captain is doing everything he can to set them at ease, there's bound to be some aftershocks. Michael's never fully learned how to manage her emotions, but now, without the distraction afforded by being in almost constant danger, she's forced to. Set after the end of season 1.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> i am not sure how many chapters this will be, and i have no idea how often i'll update. if you like this, please do let me know in the comments.

Tilly is tinkering with the spore drive when Pike enters.

"Making repairs, Ensign?"

She opens her mouth because she should answer him and closes it because she talks too much. She opens it again because maybe he doesn't mind her talking too much, and closes it because she can't stop hearing that nickname.

Pike gives her a funny look. "Ensign?"

Caught off guard, she rushes into the first words she thinks of. "No damage to the spore drive, just double checking, want to make sure it's in tip-top shape! Everything on the ship should be in as good shape as its captain." She could die now, very happily, she wouldn't mind at all if the ship spontaneously combusted. She catches Stamets' eye, he's laughing silently.

Pike smiles. "Of course, Ensign. Keep up the good work." When the doors slide shut behind him, she crumples sideways onto a nearby table and glares at Stamets. "It's not funny!"

"Tilly, your crush on the captain is incredibly funny."

Cheeks burning, she turns back to the spore drive. Denying her crush on the captain, who is admittedly very cute but SO not her type, would just fuel the teasing. She's just got to wait it out.

\----------------

"Commander Burnham." Michael swings her legs over the side of the sickbay "bed" and stands as the CMO approaches. "Physically, you're in great shape. When was your last mental check-in?"

Michael freezes. She can't let them know how much Ash -- Voq -- has fucked with her head, how hurt she's been by Lorca's betrayal . . .

"Commander?"

She coughs, looks him in the eye. Be convincing, Burnham. "Four weeks ago." Her voice doesn't crack or shake; she thinks it worked.

He scrolls through his PADD, his lips moving. She knows that four weeks ago she was in this universe; he can't call her on that.

"Commander, why would an unranked mutineer with a life sentence have their mental health checked?" She curses internally.

"You've heard the stories, Doctor. Lorca did many strange things, one of which was having me stay here in the first place. Is it so out of character for him to have my mental health examined?"

He frowns. "Why would a Terran care about that?"

Ah, so he knows. Her mind is whirring, discarding sloppy excuses, searching for a plausible explanation. She forces herself to stand still, to be earnest, and she finds it isn't too hard to say, "Lorca's lust for me made him susceptible to suggestion, and I wanted to have a check-in. I wasn't sure when I'd get another chance, and I'd been having nightmares about the Battle of the Binary Stars." Nightmares she was still having, in fact, but she wouldn't admit that to him.

The doors slide open, revealing Captain Pike. He notes how close his officers are standing, their intense eye contact, and he wonders if Burnham realizes the impact her body language has. "Status, Doctor?"

The CMO turns to him with evident relief. "Commander Burnham's physical examination has yielded excellent results, Captain, and we have just been discussing her mental state."

"Ah." He really needs to get a counselor assigned to Discovery, pronto. "Commander, with me."

She has no trouble keeping up with him, even as he deliberately lengthens his strides to test her. As he questions her about mundanities relating to the ship's workings, he notices how concise her answers are, giving him exactly what he asks for without padding or prevarication. He learns nothing of the person behind the uniform, and he's put out by this, because if he doesn't know his bridge staff then he can't run his ship as effectively as he'd like to, and because if her walls are up, then she doesn't trust him, and he likes to be trusted. Needs to be trusted. This isn't the Terran Empire, but it's no piece of cake either.

They're in the turbolift when he asks, "Are the walls because you're Vulcan, or because you've been hurt?"

Her eyes flash briefly, and he winces inwardly at his poor wording. Before he can correct it, explain it, she says, "I'm not Vulcan, sir. I grew up there, but I am human." The turbolift stops, and she exits to her station without looking at him.

\----------------

"He's just trying to get to know you, Michael. I wish you'd relax."

Michael sets her tray down with much less force than she would have preferred. "You said that the last time, and he turned out to be a Klingon who wanted me dead."

Tilly's mouth twists. "Tyler was a good guy. It's not his fault, what they did to him."

Her roommate looks like she wants to disagree, then sighs. "I know he's a good guy. I know that. But how can I trust anyone after --" She breaks off, feeling his hand around her throat as he snarled at her in Klingon, as the man she had let enter her psyche and her body told her that he wanted her dead. She draws her breath in, shakes her head and shoulders slightly, picks up her spork and begins to eat.

"Hey." Tilly's voice is soft; her hand hovers above Michael's shoulder, then drops to her side. "You trust me, right?"

Michael stops chewing to consider this. "Tilly, I think it's impossible not to trust you."

"You just say that because you trust me."

"No, I say that because of how open you are." Tilly rolls her eyes, but Michael isn't having it. "When we first met, you told me a lot of things about yourself that I could have used against you, embarrassing things, reasons why you think you aren't good enough. You showed me that you're not afraid to be vulnerable, and that made it easier for me to trust you."

Tilly sniffles, and Michael realizes that maybe she's hurt her friend. She wonders if Tilly considers her a friend, or a mutineer, or something else. And then she's incapable of thought, because Tilly leans over and hugs her, tears dampening the fabric at her shoulder. She has a brief thought that the liquid might corrode the metal of her badge, but she ignores that in favor of lifting her arms to stroke Tilly's back, conscious only that Tilly must trust her quite a bit to engage in this physical contact.

After the calmest few moments Michael's had in . . . ever, Tilly straightens out of the embrace and swipes at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Sorry, I know you were raised on Vulcan and Vulcans don't really do emotions, but that -- that was one of the nicest things anyone's ever said to me, Michael."

Michael smiles. It's an effort, but it's worth it to see Tilly's answering smile. "I'm human, Tilly. I can 'do' emotions, I'm just not very good at them." And I needed that hug as much as you did, she adds silently.

\----------------

Michael's out of her uniform and brushing her teeth when her PADD dings with a request from the captain to join him in his ready room. She groans, not looking forward to what she assumes will be a reprimand for her earlier chilliness toward him. She shrugs a jacket on over her standard-issue DISCO tee and makes her way to the bridge.

Pike is standing, because he doesn't want to be sitting when she arrives. He figured his ready room would be a better place than his quarters for the conversation he wants to have. He briefly considers a shot of whisky to calm his nerves, but then the doors slide open, and she's there. He gives her what he hopes is a relaxed and relaxing smile and says, "Please have a seat, Commander."

She doesn't move for several seconds, because she's struck by the change in atmosphere in the room. Gone is the darkness, the huge table, the goddamn fortune cookies, and in their place are a desk, six chairs, and what she can only describe as a coffee table. The light is still not as bright as it is on the bridge, but it feels less austere, more welcoming.

"Or you can stand, if you prefer," he offers, hoping that his legs can stand it. He wasn't planning to make the meeting particularly long, after all.

She looks embarrassed. Flustered? He can't tell, and he realizes that he wants to be able to tell. "My apologies, Captain. I was admiring what you've done with the room." She sits at one of the chairs in front of the desk.

So she wants to keep this as professional as possible. He can't blame her, especially as she appears to have been getting ready to go to sleep. He takes his seat on the other side of the desk. "Commander Burnham, I would like to apologize for my behavior in the turbolift earlier."

She blinks. Had she not been expecting this? The silence is so intense, he feels an acute need to fill it, so he keeps talking. "I realize that it was out of line to ask you such a personal question, and in such a disrespectful manner. I --"

"Captain." She cuts him off, and he's not used to being cut off. Come to think of it, he's not used to anything on this ship. He's always had a crew that seemed to find it easy to trust him, or at least didn't make their mistrust this obvious. She pauses before saying anything else, and he takes note of her attempt at composure, her hands resting palm down on her thighs, the clenching of her throat as she swallows before she speaks. "I didn't take offense at the question, sir."

He can tell she wants to say more, so he waits.

"I would like to apologize as well, for anything I have done that has given the impression that I am keeping something from you, Captain. That is not my intention."

He releases a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Commander, you didn't do anything extraordinary." He aches to stand, to pace, but that would probably make her anxious. "The fact is, I'm not used to a crew that doesn't trust me, and I guess it's just going to take longer to earn your trust than I'd like it to."

Her eyes narrow. "Captain, we --" She pauses. Breathes. Looks him in the eye as she says, "We know you aren't Lorca. That's not the issue. It just takes time to heal."

"How very human of you," he quips, hoping to steer them away from her obviously painful memories.

She nods, acknowledging the attempt. "Will that be all, sir?"

"Yes, of course." He stands, and she follows suit. "Thank you, Commander."

"No trouble, Captain." They shake hands, and she turns to walk out of the room. Just before she leaves, she pauses and says over her shoulder, "It's both, sir. The walls."


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what the heck, have another chapter. depending on how long i want to make this i may get a significant chunk done in the next week (my spring break starts next monday).

Michael is in her room, pretending very hard that they're not about to dock at Starbase 5 for a day of leave, because the day of leave also means that they're picking up the new ship's counselor. In her mind, she's curled under the bed, squashing herself into the corner where two walls meet, pressing herself smaller and smaller, feeling the life being sucked out of her, phantom hand on her throat --

"Michael!"

She whips around, breathing hard. Tilly's bright face changes. "Are you okay?"

There's no point in pretending, is there? That's the logical conclusion. But the other logical conclusion is that Tilly has her own issues and it would be unkind to burden her with more. She sits down on her bed, more heavily than she realizes, and says, "Nothing that won't pass. How are you?"

Tilly groans. "Everyone thinks I have a crush on the captain, and I don't, I swear, I mean he's cute and all but I'd really rather be with someone my own age, you know?" Michael's nodding absently, relaxing into the torrent of words. Tilly really does have a knack for setting her at ease. ". . . it's not my fault if my brain-to-mouth filter doesn't work sometimes, right? I mean, you've seen him. Wouldn't you say he's hot?"

"Uh . . ." Michael clears her throat, aware of how inappropriate it is to be discussing this, to be thinking about it at all; aware that it was even more inappropriate on the Shenzhou, when she was first officer. Her face burns as she realizes that she doesn't want this captain to be a rebound from everyone else who's hurt her, that despite how difficult it is to trust him, he deserves better. Tilly's eyes are on her, and she swallows, grateful that her blush is all but invisible. "He's attractive, certainly, from an objective standpoint."

"Aw, come on, Michael! Be illogical for a few minutes, nobody's gonna die!"

That's exactly the wrong thing to say, because every time Michael lets her emotions lead, someone does die.

Pike's voice, smooth and assured, speaks over the intercom. "Discovery, we have reached Starbase 5. You are free to begin your leave."

\----------------

Michael's not happy that Tilly dragged her off the ship, because she'd much rather have spent the day moping, and now that they're window shopping in what Tilly says is meant to look like a segment of Las Vegas, she can't help but be a little cheerier, and that makes her resentful. She takes her resentment out on her shoes, the only pair she has that aren't uniform, by scuffing them viciously against the faux marble floors.

Only when Tilly says, "Oh, hi, Captain," does she raise her eyes from the floor. He's still in uniform. She gives him a brief nod.

"We're off duty," says Pike. "You can call me Chris."

Tilly's eyes widen, and while she's struggling to form a coherent thought, Michael smiles at Pike. She means it to be a distraction; she isn't prepared for how his answering smile makes the bottom of her stomach drop like a trapdoor. Tilly says something about shopping, which pulls his eyes away from hers, and she closes her eyes briefly to get herself back under control.

"Well, I'll leave you ladies to your shopping." Is it her imagination, or is his voice a little lower? Her eyes follow him unconsciously as he walks away.

Tilly nudges her. "So you DO think he's hot!" Without waiting for an answer, she begins walking again.

Michael lengthens her strides to catch up, shooting a glare at her roommate. "Don't be ridiculous."

"You were totally staring at his ass just now!" Michael scuffs her shoes even harder at this. "It's okay to find your commanding officer attractive, Michael."

"It leads to an unsafe working environment," Michael snaps. "A member of a crew cannot be emotionally compromised with regard to another member of the crew, especially if they are both bridge officers."

Tilly rolls her eyes. "Come on. He was checking you out too."

Michael will not hyperventilate, she will not lose control, she will not -- she breathes in, counts to four, and breathes out. Then she has an idea that she knows will distract Tilly. "Hey, do you want to stop window shopping and actually buy something?"

\----------------

Pike isn't supposed to know that most of his bridge crew are throwing a party in the holodeck tonight, but he figures he can show up if he changes into civvies. The rumor he heard wasn't specific as to which of the bridge crew constituted "most;" he finds himself hoping Michael is one of them. He shakes his head; focus, Chris, you don't even know if she's in a solid state of mind. Still, he chooses his clothes with care, although pretty much all of his civilian clothes are the same.

She isn't there when he arrives; he quenches the wave of disappointment with a tequila shot and accepts a nurse's flirtatious advances. Stamets catches his eye from across the room and raises his glass; Pike expects to see Tilly nearby, but can't find the redhead.

"I really don't think this is a good idea. Remember what happened last time there was a party?"

The voice is behind him, nearby, and obviously doesn't think they're being overheard. Pike is about to tell the nurse that he needs to pee, when --

"Michael, when else are you going to wear this? And anyway, Tyler isn't here, we're on a starbase, and Mudd doesn't have a vendetta against this captain."

Scratch that, he's listening to this conversation. He doesn't know who or what Mudd is, nor does he know anything about the party they're talking about, but he'll take anything that might help him understand his science specialist better.

Michael sighs, and he can see her face in his mind, picture the tension in her shoulders. That isn't good. "I don't have to dance, right?"

"Yes, you do. Even if you're just dancing with me." She'll definitely dance. They aren't on duty; he isn't her superior officer right now.

"Well, then I'm not drinking."

"Come on, Michael! Live a little."

"Tilly --" The voices cut off abruptly, and then Ensign Tilly is dragging Commander Burnham past him and toward the bar. His jaw goes slack; Michael's dress is black with a few very well-placed cutouts.

The nurse touches his arm, and he's vaguely aware of smiling at her, thanking her for the conversation, and moving away. Okay, so he's buzzed, which is why he has the confidence to approach Michael.

The two roommates are at the bar, Tilly with a beer, Michael with a cocktail. He leans on the bar next to Tilly, because even in his slightly inebriated state he recognizes that Michael might not want him close to her immediately. He nods at Tilly's dress, a forest green concoction that she looks very pretty in. "I see your shopping trip went well."

Tilly smiles at him. "It did, sir! Um. Chris."

He returns her smile, aware that Michael's eyes are still on her drink. He directs his next question to her. "Burnham, were you part of planning this party?"

She lifts her eyes and he realizes that once again, he's put his foot in his mouth. "No, sir." She looks down again, takes a sip of her drink. He has to fix this.

"I was asking because, you see, this is the best party I've been to since the Academy."

Tilly's eyes widen and she tugs Michael's arm, whispers something into her ear. Michael shakes her head almost imperceptibly and says, "I'm glad you're enjoying it, Captain."

"Chris," he admonishes.

Something flashes in her eyes. "Then stop calling me Burnham, will you? I have a first name."

Tilly looks equal parts shocked and proud. Pike raises his hands in mock defeat. "All right, all right." He realizes she's trying to hide a smile -- where did this side of her come from? He stands up, walks around Tilly, and holds out his hand. "Michael, would you care to dance?"

"I'll watch your drink," says Tilly helpfully.

Michael lifts her hands from the bar, wipes them on her dress. "Do you mind if I run to the restroom first? Wouldn't want to have an accident."

He waits for half an hour before he realizes she isn't coming back.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short chapter, but it feels complete.

"Tell me about the Shenzhou, Michael."

She's sitting upright on the sofa because goddamn it, she will not relax, she will not recline, she will not make it easy for Counselor Stark to break down her defenses. She keeps her voice neutral and close to monotone as she says, "I did what I believed was necessary to ensure the safety of my captain and crew."

"Was there any particular reason why you were so adamant that Captain Georgiou live?" The counselor is gently pressing the side of her pen into her lower lip, head tilted slightly to one side as her eyes refuse to leave Michael's face.

Michael really, really doesn't want to be here. She can feel her walls cracking, and she wonders what would happen if she stopped trying to hold herself together so violently.

"Michael, if you don't answer the questions, I'll be forced to remove you from active duty and submit you to a mental facility on the nearest starbase. You are aware that this is our third session in as many weeks, and you have given me no indication that you are improving your own mental state on your own. Failure to comply may eventually result in more disciplinary action; even with your record cleared, your mutiny has not been forgotten."

That does it. Michael's hands clench, her face crumples, and she spits, "Do you want me to say that I was in love with her? That I would have died for her, and watching her die destroyed me? That seeing her Terran counterpart ripped a new hole in me, because here she was again, but it wasn't her?" She assumed the counselor has been briefed on Discovery's stint in the mirror universe, given that she's on board to help the crew process what they went through there.

Stark has lowered her pen and is writing quickly but with no trace of hurry in her movements. She lifts the pen and raises her eyes to Michael's. "Well. We have a start now, don't we? Thank you for letting me in."

And Michael, unable to bear this kindness on top of her raw, re-opening wounds, bursts into tears.

\----------------

Tilly's doing pushups when Michael returns to their room; she climbs to her feet, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. "So, how'd it go?"

Michael raises her tear-stained face to her friend's.

\----------------

Later, when there are no more tears left, Tilly says, "You've been holding yourself to an impossible standard, Michael."

Michael quirks an eyebrow at her.

"No, really! You're so compassionate, so ready to give others the benefit of the doubt, but you don't extend yourself the same courtesy. You --" Tilly pauses, struggling with words. "You force yourself to be all Vulcan when you could be a little bit of both."

Michael can't believe she's hearing this. She starts to speak several times, then gives up, before finally saying, "You know, I always wanted Sarek to recognize that and allow me to be more of who I was naturally."

Tilly rubs her back. "It's not too late."

\----------------

"She's not unfit for duty, sir."

Pike senses that there's a lot the counselor isn't telling him. "Go on."

He watches her face; she's an open book. Hesitation, loyalty to her patients, deference to the chain of command -- her eyes return to his. "But she will need regular sessions to continue to unpack everything she's been through." She twists her hands as she continues. "Her emotional state is incredibly tangled. We've broken through some of the walls today, but there's much more underneath that we have yet to touch."

Pike nods. "What I'm hearing is, go easy on her."

"I know that you like to be close with your crew, Captain, from what I've heard and from what I've seen since I got here. But for both of your sakes, I recommend giving her time. She'll open up to you when she's ready."

He has a brief vision of Michael in thigh high socks, legs spread, and curses himself inwardly. "Understood, Counselor. I trust your judgement in this."

She smiles, clearly relieved. "Thank you, Captain."

After she leaves, he leans against the table. It's unethical in multiple ways to think of Michael in that way, whether or not he controls it. He'll need to find a way of releasing whatever energy is causing this so that it doesn't hurt anyone. He has to be responsible.

The door pings. "Come," he calls.

It's Michael, and he tries not to look too guilty. Her eyes are slightly swollen and slightly red -- has she been crying?

"Captain, I wanted to, uh, thank you for bringing Counselor Stark on board." He has to work very hard to keep his mouth from dropping open. "That's all I wanted to say, sir."

"Burnham."

Her eyebrows rise. "Yes, sir?"

He doesn't want to hurt her, really, but he also can't let this opportunity slide. "If you didn't want to dance with me, you could have just told me. I never want to ask you to do something you're uncomfortable with."

She is silent for several moments, and he worries that he's said the wrong thing. Again. Her voice nearly makes him jump out of his skin; it's cool and quiet as she says, "It wasn't that I didn't want to, Captain; it was for other reasons."

And then she leaves. Again.


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have some Emotions

Pike rolls over. The glowing numbers etch themselves into his brain: 02:21. He wonders why they still run on Earth time when they're in space; his stomach rumbles. He doesn't want to be in this room.

Reaching under his bed for his slippers, he pulls them on and shrugs a robe on over his standard-issue tee and shorts that he wears to sleep in. Except he hasn't been getting a lot of sleep lately.

He wanders through the ship. He doesn't run into anyone until he turns a corner and collides with a shock of curly red hair.

"Captain!" Ensign Tilly squeaks.

Pike smiles ruefully at her. "My apologies, Ensign. I was lost in my thoughts." Then, "Why are you awake at this hour?"

"I couldn't sleep, so I went for a run, sir." Now he notices her heavy breathing, the droplets of sweat, and he feels like an idiot.

"Well, don't let me interrupt," he says, and his mind tells him that Michael is now alone, and what if she has a nightmare? He can't think that, he can't worry about every single person on board, never mind how he feels about her. How does he feel about her?

Tilly flushes. "I was just finishing, sir."

"Well, in that case, join me for breakfast?"

They walk to the mess hall, program the replicators, collect their trays, sit at a table. "Pretty early breakfast, Captain," says Tilly.

He grins. "Pretty early start, Ensign."

They chew in silence for a few moments before she says, "Captain, can I ask you for a favor? You can't tell anyone about it."

His mind starts whirring. Either it's something inappropriate, or it involves another crew member, and either way the ethics are questionable. But he can always change his mind, he reasons, and responds in the affirmative.

"Michael's been having nightmares, sir. It's one of the reasons why I couldn't sleep tonight, and I don't want to change rooms, because she's my friend and I don't want to abandon her, but I think it's something to do with what she's been talking about with Counselor Stark, and I'm just really worried about her, because she's very fragile right now and I don't know if I should say anything to her because maybe it would help or maybe she'd close up more and undo whatever's been happening, and she definitely wasn't okay before, and --"

He holds up a hand. "Slow down, Ensign." Thankfully, she stops, and he can process. "You're worried about Commander Burnham, and you don't know what to do about it, is that correct?" She nods. "And it's affecting your sleep." She nods. "Well, I think that under the circumstances, Counselor Stark should be monitoring the commander's sleep patterns and nightmare activity."

"But if you give the order, sir, she might stop trusting me."

Sometimes Tilly is incredibly insightful beyond her years, and sometimes she's not. "You have to tell her yourself if you don't want her hurt, Ensign."

\----------------

Michael is awake when Tilly returns, around 05:00.

"Just went for a run," the latter says brightly. "The Command Training Program doesn't wait for slackers!"

"Tilly."

Something in Michael's voice makes her roommate go pale. Michael curses herself; that's not what she wanted.

"Tilly, I'm not upset with you."

The redhead's forehead crinkles. "You're not?"

"No." Michael breathes, in, hold, out. "I know that my nightmares have been disturbing your sleep."

"I was just talking to the captain about that, and he said that you should have your sleep monitored by Counselor Stark but that I had to tell you because otherwise you might not trust me, and . . . oh." Tilly's face drops. "I shouldn't have told him."

But Michael finds that she doesn't mind all that much. Standing up, she pulls Tilly into a hug. "You did what you thought was right, and you needed help. The captain is an excellent resource, and I'm glad you told him. He was right. He's a wise man."

Tilly sniffles. "Okay."

"For what it's worth," Michael continues, "I was going to ask you if you minded me moving in with the counselor for a little bit; I think a break will help both of us."

\----------------

The next time Tilly sees the captain, she gives him a massive smile. He's not sure why, until he sees Michael next to her, and she looks . . . lighter. Happier? He sits down hard, because he knows how he feels about her, and it's completely inappropriate.

\----------------

"Why were you attracted to Ash Tyler?"

Michael tilts her head. "He had this sort of . . . groundedness about him. Sometimes I would look at him and feel like I was drowning and he was pulling me out. And of course he was an extremely capable officer. I've always been attracted to people who are good at what they do."

"Like Captain Georgiou."

She nods slowly. "Philippa was a lot more restrained. I think I loved her because she was so powerful but she never let it get the better of her."

"You speak of Tyler in the past tense. Why is that?"

"Because now --" She's in her quarters in the Terran universe, his hand on her throat. She clears her throat, breathes, counts her toes, counts her breaths until she can speak again. "Because now he's a combination of Ash and Voq, and the Ash I knew isn't gone, exactly, but he's not the same."

Counselor Stark writes for a few seconds. "Tell me about finding out about Voq."

Michael feels like she's walking on a tightrope over a canyon, and one misstep could send her plunging. "I felt . . . like I'd never truly known him. Like he'd been killed. By a Klingon."

"And that hurt."

"Yes." She's falling and not hitting anything, just falling down and down and down and down and -- "My parents were killed by Klingons, I watched a Klingon kill Philippa, so to hear Ash tell me that he wanted me dead, to invoke the name of Kahless --" She's crying. "It hurt, because I was in their universe, where I couldn't trust anyone, couldn't speak privately with anyone except him, and I'd trusted him, and even though it wasn't a conscious decision on his part, it felt like he was breaking my trust."

"Which was cemented by your discovery about Captain Lorca."

Michael wipes her eyes. "That . . . I didn't want to trust Emperor Georgiou, but I found myself in a position where it was one word against the other, and I constantly ask myself if I made the right choice."

"How did you feel about Lorca after you found out that he was from the mirror universe?"

"I didn't have a lot of time to feel, I was busy trying not to die." Stark fixes her with a look that says, the truth. Now. "I felt betrayed. I could blame everything else on Klingons, but this was my captain, who convinced me I was worth something after my mutiny, and I'd been trained since my very first day at the academy to trust my captain with my life." She pauses, then continues very softly. "It was like my world was ending."


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who loves putting characters in sad situations? *raises hand*

Each lost in thought, they walk into each other. It isn't the first time.

Rubbing her head, Michael smiles ruefully, raising her eyes to her captain's to discover him doing the same. They hold eye contact for a beat before bursting into peals of laughter.

"This seems to be happening quite a bit lately, Commander," says Pike once he's gained his breath back.

She nods. "I believe our forehead bruises are becoming a subject of speculation."

He begins walking again, and she finds herself matching his stride as he says, "Perhaps we should make charts, make sure we're always walking in separate areas."

She's about to protest, he's too important to alter his movements for her, when she sees his eyes twinkling, the corners of his mouth twitching, and she almost laughs again. Instead, perfectly deadpan, she replies, "Yes, sir."

They're at the mess hall. "Eat with me?" He's requesting, not commanding, and she feels something release in the pit of her stomach. She sees Tilly across the room and says, "Do you mind if Ensign Tilly joins us, sir?"

\----------------

Of course, Tilly pounces as soon as they're alone. "Michael, what was that?"

"We happened to bump into each other, and he probably just didn't want to eat alone," Michael answers absently.

"Suuuuuure."

Michael turns from her PADD to glare at her roommate. "Tilly!"

"How many times do I have to tell you he's into you before you stop denying it?"

She shakes her head. "That's not what it is. He's like that with everyone." Stop fluttering, she tells her stomach firmly. No more of that. No more captains!

\----------------

The next time she's called to his ready room, she checks her hair before entering. He's sitting behind his desk, and he smiles when he sees her. No more captains, she reminds her traitorous innards.

"Commander, thanks for joining me." He waves a hand at the five empty seats; she takes one closer to the desk. "As you know, my command here was intended to be temporary while the Enterprise was out of commission, and I received word earlier today that they're ready to have me back on board."

Her stomach drops; she forces a smile onto her face. "That's great news, sir. Please give my brother my regards." She wonders how Spock will take that; she wonders if they'll ever see each other again.

"Hold on," he says, chuckling. "If you think that's good news, wait until you hear the other news."

She can't think of anything except -- "That Commander Saru has been named captain of the Discovery?"

He frowns slightly. "Commander Saru has decided to take a few years' leave of absence, to return to his home planet and share the discoveries he has made." She finds that she can't breathe. Accept another stranger as their captain, so soon after they've all gotten used to Pike? It's possible, but is it advisable?

The door pings, and he calls, "Come," before adding, "Here he is now."

She rises when Saru enters, and, conscious of the captain's presence, says only, "I wish you good luck on your journey home." She wants to ask him why he didn't tell her first, except that of course he'd tell his captain first, even when Pike isn't really their captain -- somehow he's managed to worm his way into their hearts. She ignores the part of her saying "especially your heart."

Saru nods. "And congratulations on your promotion, Captain."

If she thought she couldn't breathe before, now it's worse. She stares at him, her vision gone a little blurry round the edges, and her mouth opens and closes like she's seen Tilly's do a few times. (Tilly would say she looks like a goldfish right now.)

Saru looks past her, to Pike. "You didn't tell her, sir?"

Pike has the decency -- or the gall, she can't decide -- to look embarrassed.

Her former first officer turns back to her apologetically. "You have been assigned command of the starship Discovery."

\----------------

It's juvenile, she's well aware, but she refuses to speak to him again before he leaves. It's only when she sees his shuttle leaving that she lets herself cry, silently, mourning the loss of something that wasn't even hers. It's extremely unlikely that they'll ever be in the same quadrant again.

Even Tilly gives her space for a few days, before waking her up well before any normal person is awake and forcing her to go jogging. Surprisingly, it does help, even if only by numbing Michael. Somewhere in the back of her mind, though, she knows that being numb is a bad idea long-term. Still, even though they aren't roommates anymore, Tilly's company does help make her feel more normal.

She's told that she can pick her own first officer, but she feels so out of touch with Starfleet that she lets them assign her one. Lacey Chiang is more than capable and quickly earns the respect of her crewmates. Michael knows she should make more of an effort to get to know her, but feels out of her depth; Lacey is tall, pretty, and confident in more ways than just professionally. Michael finds her intimidating.

She's nearing the end of a counseling session when Stark asks, "How do you feel about being captain?"

Michael takes a deep breath. "I'm scared of failing my crew, I'm scared of making the wrong decision, but I know that Saru knows me and he wouldn't have recommended me if he didn't think I could do the job."

The counselor makes a note. "You say that Saru recommended you for this. Did he tell you that?"

"Uh, I assumed. He was on the Shenzhou with me . . . he's known me for most of my career, and I feel very close to him."

"So you can't think of anyone else who might have recommended you?"

Michael pauses, twists her hands in her lap. "I guess Captain Pike might have put in a word, if he was asked." She stands up, indicating that she doesn't want to say any more.

\----------------

"Sister." Spock is his quarters, in his bright blue uniform.

Michael nods. "Brother." There's an awkward silence, which she breaks by saying, "I see that you are in good health."

"You as well." His throat works, like he's trying to swallow something, and why did she just imagine him with a dick in his mouth? She covers her own mouth, holding her breath so she doesn't laugh.

"Michael, the captain -- he's --"

White-hot anger flares up within her. "We're speaking for the first time since we were children, and you choose to talk to me about your captain?" She practically spits the words at him; he flinches, as if he can actually feel her saliva.

When he speaks again, he's closed himself off. "If that is how you feel, then there is nothing to say."

She wants to cry. "If he's in trouble, the Federation will take care of it. If you needed an excuse to talk to me, you could have picked a better one."

"That's not it. Not that I didn't want an excuse to talk to you, I did, but --" He looks askance. "I am not sure I'm ready to forgive you."

That stings, and despite her best efforts twin tears do drop from her eyes. She swipes her sleeve across her face quickly, so he doesn't see. "So. Your captain."

"We're on Talos IV."


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise i'm doing this for a reason
> 
> . . . or maybe i'm not and i'm just really sadistic

"Welcome. I am Vina." The petite blonde smiles, and Michael wonders if she can be trusted. "Our other guests will be here in a moment." She sits, motioning for them to do the same.

The room they're in is large, with several soft pieces of furniture seemingly designed for seating or reclining. The color scheme is muted, leaning toward pastel, as is the pink dress Vina wears. She looks human. Michael asks, "How long have you been here, Vina?"

The other woman smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I stopped counting."

The doors, which seem to be similar to those on the Discovery, slide open, and there he is. He's stunned to see her, she thinks, half-rising, and then she sees Spock behind him, and a few others. The uniforms are certainly an easy way to tell which division they belong to, although she's never needed color-coding to process information.

Vina has stood and is greeting the party from the Enterprise. Spock extricates himself and approaches. "Michael."

She looks him in the eye. "Spock."

He nods. "Do you know where Emperor Georgiou is?"

"N-no . . ." She's so shocked, she sits down, hard. "I hadn't realized you were made privy to the information about her."

"She was recruited by Section 31," Spock begins, taking a seat next to her. Damn, but his hair looks terrible. "She went rogue a few weeks ago, and they've been unable to track her down, so they enlisted our help, and --"

"Captain Burnham."

Michael looks up, straight into Pike's eyes. She blinks, stands, offers a hand. "Captain Pike."

He shakes her hand, looking her up and down. "Command suits you, Captain." He smiles, and oh-god-his-smile, and she could very well drown in those eyes if she let herself, and --

She bites her tongue; now is not the time for flirting! She sits again, gesturing for him to do the same.

Spock continues, "The Talosians have incredible powers of illusion, so we wondered if they knew anything, but we did not adequately account for the amount of fuel it would take us to warp here from our previous location."

"We're out of gas," Pike translates wryly.

"I got that, sir," is Michael's reply. She wonders at his need to explain to her what her brother is saying. She takes in the five o'clock shadow on both of their faces, their unkempt hair, and says to Spock, "You weren't this disheveled when I last saw you."

Spock flinches. "Take care, Michael. I do have feelings."

"That remains to be seen," she says, the corners of her mouth lifting. "You were on the Enterprise."

"I wasn't on the first landing party," he says as Pike says, "I came alone at first."

She doesn't know who to be angrier at. Fortunately for them, Vina approaches at that moment, laying a hand on Pike's arm and saying softly, "If you are hungry or thirsty, we have prepared some refreshments for you. They're just in the other room."

"Thank you," says Pike. He doesn't shake her hand off, but he doesn't seem totally at ease either. Michael resolves to ask Spock about whatever this is, this odd tension between Vina and his captain. She labels Pike as something other than hers, because no matter how badly she might want that to be different, it's the truth, and there is no way to change it.

\----------------

They're given separate rooms to spend the night in. Michael goes to her brother's.

He isn't surprised to see her, only says, "Are your questions useful, or personal?"

"Mostly personal," she admits, because she can't lie to him, no matter how much she might want to. It would be illogical.

He gestures for her to sit. "You want to know how we knew about this place, why the captain came down alone at first, and who Vina is." It's not a question, and Michael wonders how much she's forgotten about Spock -- his intelligence, his empathy that he's become excellent at hiding, his loneliness.

With a nod, she says, "You've anticipated my questions, as I should have expected."

He smiles at that. "It's been a while, big sister."

For some reason, the way he says that brings tears to her eyes, and as she looks at him she's surprised to discover that his eyes are moist as well.

He clears his throat. "Right. So. Your questions." He pauses, and she can see his mind working, see him figuring out the best way to tell her what she needs to know as well as what she wants to know, and how to reconcile those. She wonders if Sarek ever pauses for this reason. "The Enterprise was here three years ago. We received a distress call from a survey ship that had apparently crashed there eighteen years previously, and we landed because the communication indicated that there were eleven survivors. There was, in fact, one survivor: Vina.

"Vina and the Talosians took Captain Pike prisoner, intending to make him breed with her to repopulate the planet, as the Talosians had become physically very weak by relying almost solely on their power of illusion. They created several situations of a romantic nature meant to foster such feelings." There's a question hanging in the air between them, one that Michael's too afraid to ask and one that Spock won't answer without being asked. After a few moments of silence, he continues.

"The Talosians eventually realized that humans do not take well to living in captivity, and they released the captain and the other crew members whom they had taken prisoner; when asked to come with us, Vina revealed a condition which forces her to remain on Talos IV for the duration of her existence. I recommended that Starfleet ban all contact with the Talosians unless absolutely necessary."

"'Absolutely necessary' still has some wiggle room," Michael says. Yes, she's teasing him, because otherwise this would be way too much to take in all at once. She's imagining  ~~Chris~~ Pike becoming attracted to this girl, and having to leave her behind . . .

Spock quirks an eyebrow. "Clearly."

She leans forward. "Given your recommendation, I fail to see why you allowed your commanding officer to beam down here alone." She can't stop her voice from trembling, nor can she stop the anger she feels from creeping into her voice.

"He asked me as a friend, Michael." Spock's voice is low and so very, very tired. "You don't know how he's been these past few months, since he returned . . . something on the Discovery changed him."

Her body jerks upright, like a marionette's. "Has he talked to you at all about what it was?"

There's a knock on the door. Spock rises and glides over. "Come," he says.

The door slides open, and there's Pike.

\----------------

When he decided to unburden himself to his science officer so that he might be able to get some sleep, he expected to find Spock alone, not in the middle of a conversation with his sister. Damn, but this is complicated.

Michael has stood up. "Thank you, Spock. I'll take my leave now."

"You don't have to go." Pike speaks before he knows what he's saying; he's conscious that he's blushing a little, maybe. Okay, he's definitely blushing, and both of them are looking at him with concern, and how the hell does he fix this?

She quirks an eyebrow, almost an exact mirror of her brother in this regard. "Good night, Spock. Captain."

After she leaves, Spock says, "How can I help, Captain?"

Pike takes a deep breath and lets it all out. How confident he was when he arrived on the Discovery, and how his confidence was shattered when he realized how much the crew's trust had been broken; how he isn't sure if he did enough; how he thinks that maybe he isn't as good a captain as everyone else thinks he is, and the more he doubts, the more questionable decisions he makes, therefore he doubts himself even more; and how he thought that seeing Vina again would "cure" him of what he feels for Michael, but seeing the other captain again has only reinforced it.

Spock listens. As Pike starts trailing off, Spock sits down and motions for him to do the same. "If we were on the Enterprise, sir, I would offer you some whisky, but I am unable to procure that here."

Despite the gravity of everything he's just said, Chris smiles. "Thank you, Spock."

The other nods. "I take it that you have felt this way about my sister for some time."

Now that he's relieved his burning desire to tell someone, anyone, he's more self-conscious. Eventually, he's able to muster a succinct "yes."

"Is she aware of your feelings?" is the next inquiry, to which Pike returns, "She was . . . recovering, with the help of a counselor, and I felt it inappropriate to make any sort of . . . advances while she was in such a delicate emotional state."

Spock nods. "I completely agree, sir. However, now you have left Discovery, and after this mission, you may never see her again." Pike's chest clenches as his science officer voices what has been a fear of his for a while.

"And she's a captain, so I can't have her demoted just to have her transferred to the Enterprise," he says, although he doesn't regret his decision to recommend her for promotion. Quite the opposite, in fact; on all accounts, she's doing incredibly well in her new post.

The two are silent. Pike breaks it with an abrupt "Vina came to my room tonight."

Spock's face is bland, impassive. "You did not want her to stay."

"No." He wonders if he should keep going, wonders how much he should reveal, but he's started now. "I felt like I was betraying Michael even by talking to Vina."

"Completely illogical, sir," Spock says immediately and more vehemently than Pike has ever heard him. "You have to stop tying yourself up in knots. Either you must tell Michael how you feel, or you have to let her go."


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm gonna try to post at least one chapter per week from now on

It's established that Discovery will warp to the nearest starbase, collect some dilithium, and return to Talos IV within sixteen standard hours. Michael is hesitant to leave the Enterprise alone, even with Vina's reassurances, so she instructs two members of her landing party to stay: the CMO and an ensign who she'd never spoken to before this mission. Just before she beams up to the ship, she catches Pike's eye, and he looks like he really wants to say something, but the transporter is already locked in.

It's a long sixteen hours. After finding herself snapping at Chiang with very little provocation, Michael confines herself to quarters and asks Counselor Stark to meet her there.

The first thing the counselor says is, "This is progress. You're noticing your self-destructive tendencies."

"Not before they hurt someone," snaps Michael. Stark holds eye contact, and eventually the captain lowers her face to her hands, mumbling, "I'm sorry . . . I'm not sure what it is about this mission that's getting to me in this way."

"He used to be your captain, and you're afraid of a repeat of the Shenzhou."

Michael shrugs. "That feels partially accurate, but I feel like it's more." There's a block between her mind and her mouth that won't let her say what comes next: she's terrified of losing Chris, because she definitely has feelings for him, but in a way she feels like she's already lost him. Somewhere between Talos IV and here, he's become Chris without reservation in her thoughts, and that's a little scary.

Stark sits patiently, not even clicking her pen. Michael expects the silence to be smothering, but it barely touches her, caresses her cheek, winds around her neck loosely like a scarf. She breathes. And she speaks about her feelings.

\----------------

Chris has been pacing without pause for sixteen hours. He hasn't even eaten. Come to think of it, he's not sure when he last ate. Maybe yesterday.

Sometime in the past five minutes, Spock has joined him. Chris finds himself matching his stride to the other's, slower, more deliberate. As he slows, he realizes how exhausted his body is. He slumps sideways into his medical officer.

"Captain," says Spock, gingerly supporting him to a seat, "I recommend that you sleep."

Discovery's CMO slides up to Spock, tapping his arm. "They have returned, sir." Suddenly Chris isn't tired anymore.

\----------------

Everyone's beamed back to their own ships; the Enterprise engineers are refueling; the Discovery is standing by until their sister ship is fully operational. Michael, for lack of something useful to do, is painting her ready room yellow. She's never been particularly girly or feminine -- growing up on Vulcan, she internalized that as illogical -- but she needs something bright in her life, and she doesn't get a lot of sunshine these days.

The door pings. "Come," she says. At first, all she hears is standard-issue boots against the floor. A soft exhale or two. If she really concentrates, a very slight whisper as the uniform moves with its wearer. And as she takes this in, she knows who's there.

Only when the last strip of wall has been painted over does she turn around. "Captain."

He's studying the toe of his boot; he looks up, a little self-conscious, more than a little scared, she thinks. It's this more than her own feelings that gives her the urge to say, "You can sit if you want, but I only have time for those who don't waste mine." She knows he won't waste her time, of course. She just wants to keep him on his toes.

Sheepishly, he lowers himself to the floor, looking as though he's considering commenting on all of the chairs lumped together in the center. As she turns back to the paint can, he says, "Michael."

She turns back, her eyes bright. "I don't recall giving you permission to use my first name,  _Chris._ "

"My apologies. Captain Burnham." But his eyes are laughing at her, and she wants to pin him down and kiss him until he can't laugh anymore. The emotion isn't new to her, but the intensity is.

She realizes he's expecting some kind of response, so she wrinkles her nose at him. "And I apologize for the unfortunate layout of the room, sir."

He gestures to the clump of chairs. "You could join me, you know."

"Have you slept?" is her question as she remains standing, raises the brush again to begin the second coat of paint. It's a logical question; sixteen hours is a long time, and now it's been even longer than that. It's not that he looks tired, or even that he's acting tired, just that the Chris she knows -- well, knew -- would never have voluntarily been in a scenario like this with her. Although now that she thinks about it, she realizes she has no idea what he would or wouldn't do.

He shakes his head. "Haven't eaten, either. And before you get angry, Spock tried to convince me to rest. I guess I was just worried about the ship."

Despite her fury at his disregard for his personal health, she can't fault him for that, and she tells him as much.

He smiles. "I thought you might understand. How's command treating you?"

She lets the paintbrush fall as she considers what to tell him, how to steer the conversation to what she needs to ask him . . .

"It's a lot of responsibility," she admits, dropping the brush back into the paint can and turning around to face him. "I hadn't expected to see you again, either, if I'm being honest."

"Nor I." There's something in his voice that sets off alarm bells in the back of her mind, but she ignores them, she has to. "Why did you come?" he asks, and she's drowning.

Coherent. She must be coherent. Logic will save her. "My brother contacted me and implied that he and the rest of his ship were in danger. As an officer and as his sister, I felt obligated to investigate."

"And when you arrived and realized that the only danger was our lack of fuel?" Is her mind playing tricks on her, or is his voice lower than it was five minutes ago?

She takes a deep breath. "Captain --"

"Chris."

She should smile at that, him giving her permission to call him what she's already been calling him in her mind, but she's too nervous for that. "What exactly is your relationship with Vina?"

He stands, walks to the window, turns back to her. "I'll answer that if you tell me why you really came."

"Is my logical explanation not good enough, Captain?"

He sighs. "No. Yes. Of course it's good enough, but it isn't what I wanted. I thought --" He runs a hand through his hair, his gaze sweeping the room, looking anywhere but at her. "Never mind what I thought. Vina and I -- there's attraction, but I would never give up my career for her. Three years ago I thought I might, but it would have been impossible even then."

Unconsciously, Michael has taken several steps closer to him. It's madness. She can't tell him. After this, they really may never see each other again. Then why would it be so bad to tell him?

Unaware of her inner dilemma, he looks out the window, probably waiting for a response. She never told Philippa, and now she never can. She told Ash, and now he's gone.

"Chris."

"I recommended you for captain of Discovery, you know." He turns around. She didn't realize how far she moved; she's close enough to touch his face. "I knew if they didn't give you that command, I would pull whatever strings I had to have you transferred to the Enterprise, and that wouldn't have been fair to you."

"You could have stayed," she whispers.

He shakes his head. "Discovery was never my ship. All of us knew that. I was only there on borrowed time, to help you reacclimate."

"You did more than that," she says, searching his face for some indication of his feelings. "You healed us. You healed me."

He chuckles. "I'm pretty sure Counselor Stark did the lion's share of the work there."

"Why would you have had me transferred to the Enterprise?"

"You're the best xenoanthropologist I've ever worked with. Hell, you're the best I've ever met. That combined with your knowledge of physics makes you an invaluable asset to whichever ship is lucky enough to boast you among its officers." He pauses, then, softly, "And you make me feel alive."

Their eyes meet. She feels the bottom of her stomach drop out. She wasn't prepared for her feelings to be reciprocated. Terror paralyzes her; something approaching love pulls her forward, lifts her arms, slams her body into his and buries her face in his shoulder.

He raises his arms, wraps them around her, rests his chin against her head. "I didn't know if you felt the same. I couldn't risk -- even given a mutual attraction, I couldn't compromise your career for selfish, emotional reasons."

She lifts her head. "That's exactly why I -- you're considerate, thoughtful, and you always try to do the right thing."

He shrugs. "Trying isn't always doing."

She takes a deep breath. Time for some more truth. "My captain's log matches the reasoning I gave you earlier for bringing Discovery to Talos IV. My personal log tells a somewhat different story."

"You wouldn't lie in an official record," he says, humor mixing with a little apprehension.

"No. Which is why my personal log contains my concern for my brother and his captain and crew in an official capacity, as well as my personal concern for my brother . . . and for you."

He kisses her then, so gently that she finds herself unable to breathe, so thoroughly that she thinks she could live the rest of her life without any more.

The comm beeps. "Enterprise to Captain Pike. We are fully functional and ready to resume our mission." Good, they're okay; bad, he has to leave. Whether or not she can, she'll have to live for the rest of her life with that one kiss.

He frowns, takes one arm away from her so he can press the button. "Pike here. I'll be over shortly."

"Copy that, Captain."

She kisses his cheek quickly, then steps out of his arms.

"Michael --"

Her face is wet with tears as she raises it to meet his gaze. "Why pretend? We knew this wouldn't work from the beginning. Let's take what we have and be grateful for it."

She can't watch him leave, so she returns to painting. Yellow might be her favorite color now.

 


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't really know where this is going? anyway, have a chapter

 They find Georgiou, eventually, and send her to Starfleet Headquarters. Michael doesn't know what she did and doesn't care; she isn't  _her_ Philippa.

Tilly graduates with honors from the command training program and is almost immediately assigned as first officer on another ship. Michael finally has to come to terms with hearing nothing but her own breath as she lies in bed, waiting to fall asleep. It's difficult, and she often comes across something she knows Tilly would love and calls across her empty room, hoping against logic that her red-haired friend will answer.

Ash Tyler has nothing to do after Section 31 collapses. In an uncharacteristic bout of some emotion she's not ready to name, Michael assigns him to her security team, telling herself that she trusts him and that he isn't Voq. They're awkward around each other, at first -- who wouldn't be, with their history? -- but gradually they settle into a mostly easy rapport, her chest no longer tightening whenever she sees him. Even Stamets grudgingly admits that the new and reformed Tyler isn't so bad.

And so Discovery continues its mission.

\----------------

The years pass, Enterprise collecting data and unearthing mysteries Chris would rather not have touched. At least most of them haven't given him nightmares.

Starfleet is making noises about promoting him to fleet captain. He can't say he isn't pleased, but part of him is extremely worried about his ship. The first time Jim Kirk steps onto the Enterprise, his swagger leaves a bad taste in Chris' mouth, but to his surprise it's Spock who tells him to give the kid another chance. The more he gets to know Kirk, the more he sees of himself, and he knows without needing any more proof that this man will be one of Starfleet's finest officers of all time. If Spock weren't so Vulcan, he might say "I told you so."

Chris very consciously avoids thinking about Michael, about Discovery, at least when he's on duty. At night, who's to know?

And so Enterprise continues its mission.

\----------------

Michael takes one last look around her ready room, burning it into her mind. She's made it her haven these past years, spending more time there than in her quarters if she's completely truthful. It's been her preferred locale for her meetings with Counselor Stark; she's even taken her meals there most days. She exhales. Yes, she will miss this room, but she has made the right decision.

It's time to go. Saru is returning to duty, and where else would he serve but Discovery? This is just as much his ship as hers, though he would probably disapprove of the yellow walls in her ready room. And it's also time that Michael move on, now that her mental health is more stable. Now that she's approaching peace, no longer only blaming herself for the Battle of the Binary Stars.

In Michael's years on Discovery, Sarek has made progress with Vulcan-human diplomatic relations, and the Vulcan Science Academy now wants his foster daughter to be the liason between themselves and Starfleet Academy. Michael has never been a good diplomat; first, she was far too direct, trying so hard to be Vulcan that she couldn't see past the end of her own nose, and then she was too passionate, too caught up in her emotions to make good decisions. Now, she feels that she may be finding balance. She wants to try.

They're five light-years from Kaminar when her bridge crew picks up a distress signal from an unidentified shuttlecraft. Michael shrugs on a uniform jacket, takes the turbolift to the bridge, and plunks herself down in the chair. "Life signs?"

"One, registering as . . ." Chiang's voice trails off in disbelief. "Captain Georgiou."

"Transmission request, Captain."

"On screen," says Michael, rising to her feet. This had better be good; Georgiou showing up cannot bode well.

Georgiou's face is wearing that smug smile. "I should have known it would be you, Michael."

"Captain Burnham," she replies coolly. "What is your distress, Captain Georgiou?"

"Klingons have disabled my shuttle, and I am needed on Starbase 12."

Something feels fishy. Michael nods, careful not to give herself away. "Prepare to beam aboard, Captain."

Once the sound and the viewing screen are off, she's in motion. "Tyler, Henry, with me. Number One, get me current Section 31 records for Philippa Georgiou and have them sent to the transporter room."

In the turbolift, she tries to piece together what she remembers -- why hadn't she paid more attention when they caught her the last time? Ensign Henry is chattering animatedly, Tyler listening and providing the occasional interjection. Michael presses her forehead against the cool metal of the lift. She's so tired.

The PADD in the transporter room shows that Georgiou was court-martialed in 2258 for attempted murder of a senior officer, relieved of duty, and committed to a prison facility on Starbase 5. Something is definitely off, and Michael calls for more security before beaming the former Section 31 agent over.

It happens so quickly, none of them have time to react. Later, Michael's brain will play it back in slow motion, the phaser blasts hitting her security team, hitting Ash, except later she will know that the phaser is not set to stun but to kill.

When she comes to, she finds herself staring down the phaser barrel into Georgiou's eyes. Why did she come unarmed? Seriously, what the fuck was she thinking?

"Hello, Michael," says Georgiou. "Long time no see."

Something clicks inside her. She's not afraid of this woman; this Georgiou can no longer hurt her. She rolls through Georgiou's legs into a fighting stance. "Indeed." She refuses to call the woman by her first name; she reserves that for her Philippa, the one she loved.

Georgiou turns slowly, like she has all the time in the world to kill Michael, take over her ship, destroy the Federation. She tilts her head to one side, smirks. "Just give in, Michael. Your Vulcan martial arts are no match for me, even without a phaser."

Michael allows herself a smile. "That's where you're wrong." Then she attacks.

\----------------

When Chris finally steps out of the shuttle in San Francisco, the sun comes as a shock. Not a surprise, he remembers the weather is nice there, but it'll take some time to get used to. At least he has a few weeks' leave before his first assignment as fleet captain. He's not sure how much of a promotion it really is, but he's in no position to complain, and even if he's on Earth teaching cadets for the rest of his career, how bad could it be? Of course, Michael's still in space . . .

He's been invited to some dinner thing. Stands to reason he has to fulfill a social obligation his first night back on Earth. Still, it's possible there'll be good wine, or even liquor.

Once he's unpacked, he turns his PADD on, flicks to the invitation. He frowns; he hates black tie. Can't they allow officers to attend in their dress uniforms? The part of him that respects rules and authority tells him it doesn't matter, it's just one night, and he reluctantly listens.

The dinner is at the Vulcan embassy. Chris hasn't been there since he was studying at the Academy; now, as he steps out of the taxi, he feels grossly out of place. What is this dinner again? He should have looked at the invitation more closely. Was he supposed to bring a date?

He mingles. Plenty of other guests came alone. Gradually, without noticing, he lets his guard down, smiling, laughing, even cracking the odd joke here and there. He gets Ambassador Sarek to laugh and gives himself a mental high five because that man is as tough as a nutshell. It's hard to believe he raised two such compassionate kids.

When they're all sitting at their tables, Sarek stands and taps his spoon against his glass. Why is this surprising? It's Earth, and Sarek has a human wife. Of course he knows their customs.

"Ladies, gentlemen, and those of you who know better," begins Sarek, permitting himself to smile in response to the chuckles around him, "welcome to the Vulcan embassy. As you know," and Chris stops listening because she's here, across the table from her father, and he can't even see what she's wearing but he knows she looks absolutely stunning and he can't breathe and --

". . . her record as a Starfleet officer is exemplary, and we are honored to have her join our diplomatic efforts as the new liason between the Starfleet Academy and the Vulcan Science Academy. Michael Burnham."

The room erupts in applause. After a few moments, Chris joins in, wondering if this means she'll be spending time on Earth anytime soon. And by "soon" he means "within the next few weeks."

She's standing, smiling, looking perfectly comfortable and perfectly wonderful. And then she speaks. It's short and sweet and leaves Chris wanting -- no, needing to speak with her before the evening ends.

\----------------

Georgiou is in the brig, Michael reminds herself. She can't hurt anyone else.

She's sitting on her bed in her temporary quarters as the Discovery transports her to Earth, where she will meet her father and commence her duties. She expects she'll have to attend at least one fancy dinner, to make sure she's been introduced in her new capacity to all of the important people she'll be working with.

Her PADD chimes. It's Sarek,  telling her that Spock has requested a few days' leave to visit her soon after she arrives. She replies enthusiastically, wondering as she does so why Spock didn't simply send the message himself. Maybe his new captain is an asshole.

She refuses to let herself wonder where Chris is and what he's doing. Think about something else, Michael, anything else . . .

. . . she's watching Ash die, she's watching Philippa die, and she's powerless to stop them. What if this happens to Chris? What if her loving someone else is a curse?

Illogical.

But really, why didn't she take a phaser with her? She definitely didn't trust Georgiou; why did she place her trust so wholly in her security team? Maybe this is confirmation that she shouldn't be a captain anymore. She's getting lazy.

\----------------

When she sees him at the dinner, she stops breathing. He's in conversation with Admiral Cornwell, and he looks amazing. Sure, maybe a little grayer than when she last saw him, but she's never cared about that. She wonders how long he's been on Earth, how long he's here.

The commodore she's talking to has asked her a question.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

"Do you ever regret your actions at the Battle of the Binary Stars?"

She swallows. Braces herself. Begins to stifle the tears, but realizes they aren't coming. Maybe she has made progress after all. "I regret that my actions caused the death of my captain and the subsequent war, sir, but I also believe that without the war, we would not now have peace with the Klingons."

About an hour later, she slips into a side corridor and braces herself against the wall as she slips her shoes off. Just a moment, she promises herself, I just need to let the blisters air out. She wonders if she'll have to wear heels all the time as a diplomatic liason; she finds it hard to believe that she could get used to them.

Footsteps sound behind her. "Michael." It's him.


	9. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ope it's short and i maybe should have included it in the last chapter but fuck it

Michael scuffs her shoe on the sidewalk by the cafe as she waits for him. She's a few minutes -- okay, fifteen minutes early, and she feels like a teenager in a holomovie.

They didn't say much to each other in the corridor at the embassy dinner. Personally, Michael was too busy learning how many new lines there were in his face. She barely stayed with him long enough to set up their coffee date, which isn't really a date, because if she calls it a date and he doesn't have feelings for her anymore, she'll be devastated.

She scuffs her shoe harder, furrowing her brow, staring at the sidewalk like her eyes could burn a hole in it.

A taxi stops. The doors slide open, and there he is. She holds her foot still and is fairly sure that her attempt at a smile looks more like a grimace. "Captain, a pleasure."

He groans. "I'm on leave. Call me Chris."

"Fine with me," she says, already walking.

They sit outside, because it's not too sunny and because the cafe's air conditioning is colder than it needs to be.

"So," she says once they've sat, and arranged their jackets, and stirred their drinks, and taken a few sips. "You're a fleet captain."

"And you're a diplomat." He shakes his head. "That's something I never thought I'd see you do."

"Apparently it runs in the family," she says dryly. "And there's time for me to do research on the side. I may even end up teaching a class here and there."

He chuckles. "That'd be something. Professor Burnham. Would you teach quantum physics, or xenoanthropology?"

Fuck, but she wants to kiss that smirk off his face. "Who says I have to pick only one?" She holds his eyes as she sips her coffee, challenging him.

He lifts his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, so both."

A slight breeze picks up, ruffling the sleeves of his shirt as he lifts his mug to his lips. Was he this buff when he served as her captain?

He puts his drink down, leans closer. "So you're not Starfleet anymore."

"No." She's not sure where he's going with this, not sure why he needs to invade her personal space without giving her the courtesy of a kiss.

His eyes find hers and hold them. "And the fraternization policy no longer applies."

Oh. That's where he's going with this. She almost laughs, but catches herself and says, "Correct."

He smiles, looks down at the table. "Michael, am I correct in assuming that you think this might not be a date?"

She can't speak. She forgot how easily he can read her sometimes, or maybe it's that she's transparent. Eventually she mutters something about wanting to catch up with him as former shipmates.

"Bullshit." He's no longer smiling, and his eyes aren't playing games either. "Either you still want me, in which case I'm incredibly lucky, or you don't, and either way you should tell me, because I have never stopped wanting you."

Tears are pricking her eyes. Of course he's doing this, he doesn't want to waste her time if they don't feel the same, but the fact that he doesn't seem to care about his pride at all is what pulls her out of her seat, leaning toward him, grasping his arms. He rises to meet her, hands cupping her cheeks, drawing her lips to his, and nothing matters except the heat that's been building in her since she saw him in that suit four nights ago.

It's Chris who ends the kiss, panting, looking like he's just run half a marathon. Michael is sure she looks similar, possibly worse because her hair is a mess and she might have cried a little. Then he smiles, and she's a puddle again.

"Just in case it wasn't clear," he says, sitting, lifting his coffee to his now-much-redder lips for a sip, "this is a date. But" -- she was about to interrupt -- "in case it doesn't count, I'm making us a dinner reservation for Friday. I'll send you the details."

As she takes her seat, she wonders how she managed to keep herself away from him when they were on the same ship.

* * *

 


	10. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been struggling with how to continue/end this, so i'm sorry if this is disappointing/too short, but i rly didn't want to leave it hanging

"Sister." Spock is wearing robes that bring a pricking sensation to Michael's eyes, because he looks so much like his -- their -- father.

She nods. "Brother."

He sits. "You would not have been my first choice as liason, but I see the logic in appointing you."

She knows she's too emotional and she doesn't have diplomatic training, but she still wishes he wouldn't remind her of that. "What is your reason for asking to meet me?"

To her surprise, he actually blushes, then mumbles, "To wish you all happiness with Chris."

It takes her a few seconds to put the pieces together. "Wait, you -- "

"We placed _bets_ , Michael." Spock is still blushing, clearly uncomfortable. "The entire bridge crew of Discovery and Enterprise placed bets on how long it would take the two of you to get together."

She doesn't know what to say to that. As she watches her brother's blush slowly recede, she realizes just how much she underestimated his capacity to love, and she tells him as much.

He shrugs it off, of course, with one of his snarky remarks. And then he says something about his new captain that piques her interest.

"And I'm glad that Chris was promoted. Jim is a good captain . . . and a good friend." Maybe it's not the words but the way he says them, but either way Michael would bet that her brother is falling in love.

\----------------

  _ten years later_

"Help me with my tie?" Chris steps out of the bathroom, a vision in a cream suit. Michael sucks her breath in as the light falls just so on his hair.

She tweaks his black bow tie, then turns. "Zip me up?"

After, he lets his hands rest at her waist, dropping his head to kiss her shoulder gently.

There's a crash from the next room, and Jim yelps.

Michael giggles. "You should probably get in there before he destroys himself and this wedding."

Chris returns her smile. "See you on the other side."

There's no walk down the aisle, and the vows are short, but as Michael, standing opposite the cranky doctor Leonard McCoy, turns her head slightly to catch Chris's eye, she thinks it's the most beautiful thing she's ever been part of; and at the reception, sitting between her brother and her love, she feels as though, finally, she's home.


End file.
